Head Canons
by DeiStarr
Summary: Short collection of HC's written for one word prompts. Leave a prompt in a review or a PM and I'll write one for you! :D Ongoing, various themes and plots. Each chapter is a stand alone ficlet, although some may be continuations of others. Slash Harry/Draco
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Head Cannons

**Disclaimer:** If you think I own Harry Potter or Draco Malfoy you're quite barmy. I like you.

**Rating:** PG, or T, depending on future entries

**Pairing:** Harry/Draco, possible background pairings in other entries

**Warnings:** Language.

**Summary: **Short collection of HC's written for one word prompts. Leave one in a review or a PM and I'll write one for you! :D

**A/N: **Like I said, leave a review or send a PM with a prompt and I'll write it. :D

* * *

Prompt: Drama

* * *

"A chick flick, Potter?" Draco arched a brow at him and scoffed. He always fell into the habit of calling Harry "Potter" when he was speaking derisively.

"It's not a chick flick," defended Harry. "It's a romantic drama."

"Right," snorted Draco.

"Hermione said it's very good!" Harry protested. "You always like the movies she picks out!"

"Not always, Potter," Draco gave him a pointed look, and he sighed.

"Fine, so we both hated Green Lantern. Even Hermione's allowed to be wrong once in a while."

"My point," said Draco triumphantly.

"Mine is that you normally love the movies she suggests. Give this one a chance."

Draco let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Alright, Potter, you romantic sap, you win. We'll watch the damn movie."

* * *

"I'll always miss her, but her love is like the wind."

Draco let out a strangled noise that had Harry peering at him in concern. He half-expected to see Draco smothering a laugh.

Instead, Draco was all choked up and _sniffling_. Harry's eyes almost bugged out of his head, but he wisely held back the laughter that threatened to burst out.

Well, well.

Draco Malfoy, romantic sap.

Draco Malfoy, who cried watching "A Walk To Remember".

He was so not living this one down.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and Co. have been borrowed by me. I solemnly pledge to return them unharmed, if a little debauched, once I am done with them.

**Warnings: **Innuendo, implied bondage?

**A/N: ** Still taking prompts! :D

* * *

Prompt: Attention (requested sub!Draco)

* * *

Draco whined and arched into Harry's touch.

"You like that, don't you?" murmured Harry, stroking his back.

Draco purred in response, and Harry chuckled.

"You just _love_ attention, don't you, Draco?" he asked, grinning.

Draco mewled as Harry ran his fingers through the fine hair on his head.

He thought back to the day Draco Malfoy was made his Auror partner, back when they were in training. The partner you had in training was likely the partner you kept afterwards. The bonds forged in training were by no means a small deal.

He'd stormed down to Kingsley's office and threatened to quit. Kingsley had called his bluff. He knew Harry loved his job too much to quit.

"Give him a chance," advised Kingsley.

So Harry was stuck working with Draco Malfoy all through Auror training, and by the time Auror training was done, to his surprise he didn't want to work with anyone else.

They still fought plenty, but they always made up over drinks at the pub after.

They still riled each other up like no one else could, but they knew each other better than anyone else did and made a killer team because of it.

Draco was still a conceited prat who knew how to make Harry's life miserable, but Harry couldn't imagine his life without Draco in it.

Draco was still a vain git who loved himself a little too much to be healthy, but now Harry loved him too.

He turned his attention back to the present when his inattention was rewarded by a nip to his hand.

"None of that, Draco," he chided. "Or no treat for you."

His hand was nipped again and he tugged at the slender collar he made Draco wear, pulling him back from being able to reach Harry's now-sore appendage.

"Bad Draco!" he scolded. Draco just batted his hand back and forth.

"You just wanted attention, didn't you?" he asked, bemused. "Just like him."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. He was pathetic. He should just man up and tell Draco he loved him – so much that he'd named his new cat after him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own either Harry Potter or Twilight. I'd love to have one of them, though.

**A/N:** Again, I'm taking requests. :D

* * *

Prompt: Sparkles!

* * *

"Harry!" called Draco. "Where's the art kit?"

"On top of the cabinet in the hall!" Harry called back. He continued wrestling with the trunk he was trying to open. He shot several spells at it, then resumed his efforts to yank it open. Nothing.

"Bother."

He sighed. Downstairs he heard Teddy's excited chatter and he mentally thanked Draco again for keeping him occupied while Harry finished getting the trunk open. It was full of Sirius and Regulus' toys from when they were little boys, pre-Hogwarts. Toys that he was eager to bring out for Teddy.

If he could just get the darn thing open.

He hurled every unlocking spell he could think of at it; the darn thing wouldn't budge.

He thought as he continued to mumble incantations, about the first time Teddy had met Draco. Neither of them had quite known what to make of the other at first. It took Draco longer to adjust to Teddy than it did Teddy to adjust to Draco, however.

For Draco, he was meeting one of his few surviving relatives, but a boy whose grandfather was a muggle, whose father was a werewolf, and whose mother was a metamorphmagus. A boy with whom he would never have associated before the war. But then, before the war he never would have associated with a muggleborn and a Weasley, and now he made nice with them for Harry's sake.

For Teddy, he was meeting one of his few surviving relatives, a haughty pureblood who seemed as intimidated by him as he was desperate to intimidate. Teddy had, after a few fascinated minutes of staring at Draco and being sneered at in return, had morphed into a blond, grey-eyed toddler who mimicked Draco's sneer back at him perfectly.

Draco had 'Eeep'ed and fled before thinking his actions through.

Teddy had chortled and chased after him.

That pretty much summed up their relationship since.

Therefore it was very brave and noble and _Gryffindor_ of Draco to have volunteered to watch Teddy while Harry worked on the trunk. And he had taken the initiative to get out the art kit to play with Teddy, too.

Harry smiled happily, pleased with his lover. Suddenly he remembered something. He dashed out of the room, shouting, "Draco!"

He flew down the stairs, calling again, "Draco!"

"Yes, Harry?" called Draco from his seat on the floor beside Teddy and the open art kit. "What is it?"

"I forgot to tell you," Harry called, hoping he would make it in time. "When you get out the art kit, you have to hide the –"

POOF!

"– Glitter," he finished morosely, stopping in the doorway and staring at an astonished and glitter-coated Draco.

Teddy stood over Draco, the empty glitter tube clutched in his hand. He laughed gleefully.

"Well," said Harry, trying desperately not to laugh. "You and Cedric Diggory have something in common, now." At Draco's confused look he grinned. "You both sparkle."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Owning Harry Potter and Co. would make me the happiest girl in the world. Sadly, tis not meant to be.

**A/N: **Just review or PM me with your request! :D

* * *

Prompt: Cookies

* * *

Draco hummed along with the radio as he worked. He flipped the mixing bowl upside down on the counter, then began rolling out the dough he'd flipped out of it.

He started humming along with a Weird Sisters hit while he did, smiling to himself for no apparent reason.

He finished rolling out the dough and began cutting it into shapes with a cookie cutter. He placed the cookies on a tray to be baked. Dozens of little stars were soon lined up along the tray, and his smile grew broader.

He placed the tray in the oven, heaved a sigh, and settled down to wait. After a moment, he got up and cranked the radio. He began dancing around the kitchen, shimmying his hips and attempting to moonwalk.

It was to that sight that Harry Potter came home – Draco Malfoy, wearing a frilly apron, with flour dusting his hands, the edge of his nose, and all through his white-blond hair, dancing around the kitchen singing at the top of his lungs to the Wizarding Wireless Network, and waving a spatula around.

He stood and stared at the entrance to the kitchen in amazement. He grinned, wanting to laugh but not wanting to alert the blond to his presence just yet.

Draco turned and crowed out the final lyrics to the song that was playing, when he caught sight of Harry. His grey eyes met Harry's green, and they went wide as saucers.

"Hi, Harry," squeaked Draco in a higher-than-normal voice. Harry couldn't take it anymore. The messy-haired brunet burst out laughing so hard he doubled over.

"You're home early," said Draco in a more normal tone, one that suggested Harry had arrived home early with the express intention of witnessing Draco make a spectacle of himself.

"I thought I'd surprise you," Harry gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. "What on Earth were you doing, Draco?"

"Making cookies," came the sheepish response. "To surprise you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Harry Potter, do you honestly think I'd be writing these for free? Come on, people. We live in a mercenary world.

**A/N: **Still taking prompts. :) I'll PM you once your prompt is done! :D

* * *

Prompt: Messy

* * *

"Teddy!"

"Teddy, where are you?"

Draco stopped running to search the sitting room. He couldn't find the little metamorphmagus anywhere. Harry called from up the stairs.

"Any luck?" he sounded hopeful .

"No," Draco replied in frustration. "I can't find him!" He pulled at his hair in frustration. He would never admit it, but over the last few months when he'd gotten to know the little tyke he'd really grown to love him. Knowing Teddy was missing and not being able to find him left him frantic.

He could only imagine how Harry, Teddy's godfather who had been helping raise Teddy since he was an infant, felt right now.

He hurried towards the stairs; Harry met him at the bottom. "What if he got outside?" Harry sounded panicked. "There are cars on the street; oh, Merlin, Draco, he could be dead." He was all but hyperventilating.

"Calm down," Draco ordered him. "Take deep breaths." He rubbed Harry's back, feeling helpless. "There are locking spells on the doors, remember?" he reminded Harry. "He can't get out, which means he's somewhere in this house. We just need to figure out _where_."

Harry nodded, gulping air.

Suddenly Draco heard a clatter coming from the kitchen. He turned to Harry, eyes wide. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

"Hear what?" asked Harry, looking eager.

There was a loud 'BANG!' and a rustling noise from the kitchen, and both Harry and Draco rushed in at once. The sight that greeted them was comical.

Teddy sat on the floor, blinking, white as a ghost, covered head to toe in flour. The bag lay on the counter, tipped over, most of its contents on or surrounding Teddy. Teddy smiled at them and held up his hands.

"Messy!" he declared with a grin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Jo Rowling owns the Potterverse.

**Warnings:** Sexual innuendo and language.

**A/N:** Still taking prompts! :D

* * *

Prompt: Playstation

* * *

Harry sat in the chair and sighed. This was turning out to be another awful night. He stared morosely at Draco, whose eyes were glued to the TV screen. He hadn't even registered Harry's presence.  
"Okay, Charlie; go round the back. We'll trap him!" Draco's voice was loud and excited. He spoke into the mouthpiece of the headset he wore, eagerly and expertly moving his thumbs on the controller.

Harry stared at Draco's long, slender fingers and licked his lips. It had been too long since he'd felt Draco's hands on him. Draco was always playing way into the night and Harry inevitably fell asleep before he came to bed.

He wished they'd never bought the bloody box.

Harry had gotten it for Draco as a joke. He'd gotten Draco to accept the TV grudgingly, admitting that it was useful for watching movies, which Harry had discovered the blond had a weakness for.

But he'd avowed that all other muggle contraptions were either useless, or less convenient and functional than wizarding ones. So Harry bought him a Playstation, and forced him to try it out.

Now Draco was hooked.

Harry was pretty sure he could perform a strip tease in front of Draco while he was playing, and get no reaction other than the blond trying to see around him.

It was very bad for the ego.

"Gamers," thought Harry with a sad shake of his head. "I'm going to bed now, Draco," he said aloud, in a sad voice. "Goodnight."

He got up and plodded up the stairs, feeling very unhappy. He crawled into bed and tried to sleep, but all he could think about was how Draco seemed to love his bloody Playstation more than Harry, and how he bloody _missed_ Draco and how he was so horny and it wasn't fair.

He rolled over on his side, facing the wall, willing his tears not to fall. They didn't listen.

Suddenly there was a pressure on the other side of the bed; the unmistakable feeling of someone climbing onto the mattress beside him.

"What's wrong, love?" came Draco's voice, as he reached over and wiped the tears from Harry's face. His own face was a mask of worry.

Harry sniffled. "I thought you were playing."

Draco shrugged. "You were upset. Are upset. You're more important to me than a silly game."

Harry's breath caught and he started crying again. Draco shushed him, comforted him.

"What's wrong, love?" he repeated.

"You're always playing your game," Harry replied in a low voice. "I hardly see you except sitting there on the couch like a zombie, or talk to you anymore in conversations that don't consist of monosyllables because you're too distracted for anything else. I hate falling asleep alone, without you beside me. And we haven't had sex in ages."

The outburst left him drained, but it felt good to get it out. He added, "You've made me feel like I come second to that bloody box and I hate it. I wish I'd never bought it."

Draco was silent a moment. Then he spoke. "If you want, I'll get rid of it."

Harry stared. "Really?" he asked, hardly daring to believe what Draco had just said.

Draco gave him a tender look, stroked his cheek, and answered. "Really. I never meant to make you feel this way, and I'll try my best to make it up to you, okay?"

Harry smiled. He felt cared for for the first time in a while. "I guess you don't have to get rid of it," he responded. "Just limit your time spent playing on it. Make sure to spend some time with me too, and try to come to bed with me like you used to."

Draco smiled back. "Deal." His smile turned predatory. "Now, about that sex we haven't been having…" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry laughed. This was turning out to be a wonderful night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I write what I write for free, I make money off of nobody. Harry Potter and friends are not mine, but I'd like to have Draco; he's very fine.

**Warnings: **Language, MPreg.

**A/N: **Still taking requests. :)

* * *

Prompt: Guilty

* * *

Draco was sick. Sick, sick, sick. His whole world revolved around being on his knees, praying before a porcelain throne. He didn't know how much more he could take. He felt as though his insides were outside and he couldn't remember the last time he'd kept food down.

He was losing weight, which happened sometimes, but still wasn't good. He was on a new anti-nauseant potion, but so far it hadn't worked.

He dry heaved into the toilet again, shuddering and beginning to cry. Again. He was like a bloody girl; so emotional over everything. His mask was gone, and he didn't know how to get it back.

Harry was rubbing small circles into Draco's upper back with one hand, and rubbing his lower back with the other. "Shhh, love," he whispered. "It'll be okay. It won't last." Draco leaned into the touch, forcing himself not to focus on his very unhappy stomach, but on Harry's touch; on those small circles on his back. It was the best Draco had felt in a long time.

"I hate this," he sniffled. His voice was small and defeated, cracked from vomiting and dehydration. Harry stopped rubbing small circles into his back for a moment – and Draco whimpered at the loss – to summon a glass into which he conjured water.

"Drink." He held it out to Draco, who sipped it gratefully. Harry placed it carefully on the floor beside them.

Draco glared at him. "This is all your fault, you know."

He watched Harry's face fall, the guilt flooding it. "I know," he whispered, closing his eyes. He bowed his head a moment, tears threatening to flow. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." Draco knew he was being cruel but he didn't care. Right now all he cared about was making sure that Harry knew just how much he'd fucked Draco's life up.

Harry reached out and started rubbing small circles into Draco's back again, and Draco leaned into the touch and moaned.

"I wish I could change it, Draco; Merlin knows I do. If I could, I'd go back in time and make it me, not you who has to go through all this." There were tears in Harry's voice, and Draco felt a stab of his own guilt at the guilt and pain in his husband's voice.

"We shouldn't have listened to the healers, you mean?" asked Draco sarcastically. "They said that my body was better suited to it."

Draco remembered how the healers had said that Harry had been malnourished and half-starved for too much of his life; his body stood less of a chance at carrying a successful pregnancy to term than Draco's did. So Draco was the one carrying their baby.

Harry leaned his head against Draco's back; not putting any pressure on it, just touching it. He turned his head slightly and planted a soft kiss on Draco's shirt. "Tell me what to do," he begged. "Tell me how to make it better."

Draco sighed. "It's not your fault, Harry. I was just sick and lost my temper, taking it out on you."

Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco cut him off. "As for what you can do, you could help me to bed. And if you could lay beside me and rub my back, that would be perfect."

Harry smiled a tiny bit. "Okay."

Somehow, they would make it through this. And in the end, it would be worth it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **J. would sue the pants off me if I tried to claim Harry Potter. Then again, I'm dirt poor so she wouldn't really get anything out of it.

**Warning: **Language

**A/N:** Still accepting requests! In PM's or reviews! :D

* * *

Prompt: Moist

* * *

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. The plumbing had burst in the kitchen, spraying water everywhere, and now his sandwich – his perfect culinary masterpiece – was moist. Draco couldn't even recreate the sandwich; he'd used the last of the bread to make it.

He'd just finished making the sandwich and put his plate down on the counter by the sink while he put away the ingredients he used to make it. He was licking his lips in anticipation when it happened. The pipe burst, and jets of water came streaming out, spraying everything.

Draco felt defeated – by a simple pipe! His pride kept him from going and hiding and letting it continue to cause damage while he hid and pretended nothing was wrong.

He didn't want to go back into the kitchen; everything was wet or at least moist and Draco was disgusted. He wished he knew the charms to fix the sink, although he had finally figured out the one to make it stop spewing water.

He sighed and leaned against the wall, defeated. He would have to wait for Harry to get home, and let him deal with fixing the damn thing. He sighed and glanced at the kitchen again, realising it would need to be cleaned. He glanced at himself and the sorry, soaked state he was in, and shrugged. He might as well do something useful.

He cast one last forlorn look at his moist sandwich, and sadly went back into the kitchen to begin cleaning up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and friends belong to J. . I'll take the enemies. ;)

**Warnings: **Language, implied past MPreg.

**A/N:** Keep the suggestions coming, guys! :D

* * *

Prompt: Children

* * *

Draco paused for breath, gasping. He didn't have the energy to keep this up indefinitely, and he wondered vaguely if there might not be some magical means of siphoning off a child's energy.

The twins, Scorpius and Albus, peeked around the corner at him and giggled. Despite being twins, they couldn't have looked more different. Albus was the spitting image of his Dad, Harry, with his messy black hair that never cooperated, his bright green eyes, and his need for glasses. Scorpius, on the other hand, was all Draco, with fine blond hair that never misbehaved, pale skin, and mercurial silver-grey eyes.

Having caught his breath, Draco roared and chased after them. They squealed in delight and ran as fast as their three year old legs could carry them. Draco purposefully lagged behind, but they nevertheless put up quite the pace. James jumped out at him, yelling, "Can't catch me, Papa!" and dashed away, laughing madly as Draco followed. He followed the mop of black hair, determined to catch his prey.

He caught up with James and grabbed him. James' brown eyes sparkled with mirth as he shrieked and struggled to get away. The five year old was surprisingly strong for his age and size, but fortunately Draco was stronger. James shrieked again.

Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, arms cradling their baby daughter, Lily. "What's all this racket?" he asked, amused. "You guys woke Lily up. " He didn't sound upset, so he must not have been trying to sleep. He slept a lot right now, still recovering from the pregnancy.

Lily's shock of red hair peeking out over the edge of her receiving blanket stood out from even where Draco stood at the bottom of the stairs. He smiled indulgently at Harry and their beautiful daughter, made with magic. James continued to squirm in his arms, but he gave Harry and Lily priority first.

"Sorry about waking her up, love," he said. "Do you need me to help with anything?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was tackled from both sides by a little blond blur and a little black one. He went "Oomph!" Harry's laughter trickled down the stairs and filled the whole house.

Draco grinned as well, although he was now wrestling with three very determined children. He loved being a Papa, but sometimes it was bloody exhausting. Well worth it though, he thought, looking at his perfect family of six.

Yes, it was well worth it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** J. wishes she had united Harry and Draco in cannon, and thereby gave permission to me to do so here. No, but really; I don't own it. (And in case you're really dense, no, I don't have permission to write this, either. Call me a rebel.)

**Warnings: **Slash kissing. Boy cooties; yuck.

**A/N:** Still taking prompts! :D

* * *

Prompt: Favourite

* * *

"What's your favourite flavour?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't know yet. And I don't like not knowing things about you."

"Chocolate," said Harry, smiling across the table at his boyfriend. It felt a little surreal to call him that. After all, they'd been Auror partners and friends for a few years now and bitter rivals before that, at Hogwarts. It had taken the realisation that naming your cat after your crush and not being able to confess your feelings was a little pathetic to spur Harry into action. He still wasn't used to the fact that Draco Malfoy, former nemesis and the Auror department's resident hottie, was now _his_ boyfriend.

He'd been so nervous when he first asked Draco out. He tried four times before finally succeeding; each time he asked Draco out, the blond Apollo had assumed he meant as friends. Since they hung out almost every night anyway, it wasn't really any different. It was on their fourth such "date" that he blurted out the truth.

They were at the a nice muggle restaurant – nothing too fancy, but not too shabby, either – enjoying a few drinks together after their meal, when Harry had finally downed enough liquid courage and worked up the nerve to confess.

"I didn't ask you to come with me because we're friends, Draco," he said .

Draco was silent a moment. He looked genuinely confused. "Why, then? What's up, Harry?"

Harry shivered. He loved the way his name sounded on the other man's tongue. 'Focus, Harry, focus,' he said to himself. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair; a bad habit he just couldn't seem to break.

"I don't see you as a friend," he explained calmly. "In fact, I never really have." Draco's face hardened and his grey eyes took on a steely glint.

"Really," he said in a cold voice. "I thought we were past this whole 'rivalry' thing, Potter." He sneered Harry's last name, and Harry's heart sank as he realised that this was going very badly. Perhaps a little less liquid fortification for them both would have been a good idea when broaching the subject. But the damage was done. It was time to charge ahead blindly, hoping against hope that his luck would hold. It was time to be a Gryffindor.

_No,_ he reflected, chastising himself. He needed to run damage control first. Get a handle on his tongue before he made the situation worse; fall back and regroup, and try again another day.

"I'm crazy about you," he said. No! he thought frantically._ What happened to 'fall back and regroup'?_

Draco blinked at him. He leaned forward. "What did you say?" he asked in a disbelieving tone.

This was not the way it was supposed to go. Harry blinked and tried to think fast, but his liquid courage was now working against him. His brain and his mouth seemed to be going off in opposite directions; even as his mind frantically scrambled for a way out, a way to maintain his dignity, his mouth continued shooting off.

"I like you, Draco. A lot. In fact, I like you so much I named a cat after you. I bought a cat, just so I could name it after you; pretty dumb, huh? But I like you. A lot." Harry was aware that he was rambling but couldn't seem to stop. It was like watching an accident; he could see it happening and felt the horror rising within himself, but could do nothing to stop it. He blinked a few times. "I really, _really_ like you," he added unnecessarily.

Draco was staring.

"See, even when I thought I hated you, I couldn't help noticing that you were hot. I pretended that I wasn't attracted to you, but I was. And then when we started becoming friendly with each other, I started to like you. More and more the closer we got. I couldn't see you like a friend because I was too damn attracted to you, and –"

Whatever Harry had been going to say was cut off, as Draco abruptly stood up, leaned across the table, grabbed him by the jaw and pulled him in for a bruising kiss, right in the middle of the restaurant.

Draco's lips were soft and when Harry opened his mouth it was all sliding tongues and clacking teeth and it was wet and sloppy but somehow even better than he had imagined.

His brain wasn't really registering anything but that glorious kiss, until Draco pulled away. Then he struggled to process the fact that Draco had just kissed him. In public, no less.

Draco looked straight into his green eyes and smiled. "I've been wanting to do that," he said. "Since Hogwarts."

Harry laughed out loud for sheer delight, and Draco pulled him in for another kiss.

* * *

"Harry? Harry, come on, love, wake up!" Draco sounded amused. "Merlin, what on earth were you thinking about?" he asked as Harry blinked. "You had this big, dopey smile on your face. You looked ridiculous."

Harry stuck his tongue out at Draco. "I was thinking about our first kiss," he admitted, cheeks colouring slightly. He knew Draco would take the piss for him being such a sap.

Harry tried to remember what they had been talking about before he got caught up in reminiscing. Maybe he could distract Draco from teasing him.

"What's your favourite flavour?" he blurted, as the blond opened his mouth to mock him. Draco's eyes sparkled with mirth, and he leaned forward and kissed Harry soundly. It was less messy and desperate than their first kiss, but no less passionate.

Draco pulled away, a soft smile on his lips. "You are," he answered.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, sir. I is being a sneaky elf and borrowing it, sir!

**Warnings:** Language

**A/N: **I am constantly taking prompts for this until it is listed as "complete" or until I say otherwise. I can't necessarily promise the prompts will be completed right away, but as soon as I am able. :)

* * *

Prompt: Apples

* * *

Draco Malfoy bit with perfect white teeth into the skin of a green apple he was holding in one of his pale hands. He licked his soft, plump pink lips to clean the juice off of them. He enveloped another bite of the apple into his perfect mouth, and tossed his head while he chewed, his gorgeous platinum hair sliding back into place when he did so.

"Harry? Harry, you're drooling."

"Err, what?" Harry blinked, coming out of his reverie and reminding himself that it was stupid to be jealous of a piece of fruit. Hermione peered at him, a small frown on her face.

"Are you alright?" Concern laced her voice.

" 'M fine, Mione." Silently he pleaded with her to drop it. He couldn't explain it to her, and definitely not to Ron. They'd never understand.

Hermione looked utterly unconvinced, but appeared to have decided that during class was not the time to deal with it. She shot him one more frown and turned her attention back to Hagrid.

"Now this litt'le bugger 'ere," said the large man cheerfully, gesturing to a monstrous blob, "Is a friendly litt'le tyke known as a Jiggernaut. This one 'ere, I like ter call Felix."

Malfoy's pale porcelain skin went paler at the sight of the monstrosity. His grey eyes were wide with fright, though the rest of his features were schooled into an indifferent mask. Harry suppressed the urge to comfort him. Knowing Malfoy, he'd probably get hexed if he tried.

He let out a tiny sigh; a forlorn little sound that did not go unnoticed by Hermione. Her eyes narrowed and he _knew_ there was no getting out of it now. _Shit,_ he thought, running a hand through his messy black locks. He bit his lip and spent the rest of the lesson trying to come up with a plausible excuse to give to Hermione.

He couldn't admit he fancied Malfoy. He just couldn't.

During supper in the Great Hall, Harry picked at his food and avoided Hermione's eyes. When he was finally sure she wasn't watching anymore, he snuck a glance at the Slytherin table. There sat Malfoy, with another green apple. He was playing with it, rolling it back and forth between his palms and over his wrists as he chatted animatedly with Blaise Zambini.

Harry stared at that apple, rolling over the creamy expanse of skin, and wish he could trade it places. He groaned inwardly, realising that he was, in fact, jealous of an apple. Or rather apples. Malfoy seemed rather obsessed with them; even more so than in previous years, though if Harry remembered correctly he'd always fancied them.

Harry wasn't sure exactly when it started, though he had a general idea. He returned Malfoy's wand after the war, and they had a long, civil conversation. He'd testified for Malfoy and his mother and had gotten them off, so Narcissa had invited him over to the Manor. He'd figured, why not go return Malfoy's wand? Merlin knew Harry didn't need it anymore. He already had two wands; his and the Elder – there was no point in keeping a third.

But it was after that conversation, he seemed to run into Malfoy wherever he went. And while Malfoy wasn't any different – apparently he'd used up all the civility he had in him the day Harry had returned his wand – Harry couldn't shake the memory of the passionate, eager young man with a thirst to prove himself whom he'd spoken to that day. He took to watching Malfoy, and now that he wasn't doing so under the suspicious nature he'd had during sixth year, he began noticing things about the blond. How he acted like he was better than everyone else but in reality had a massive inferiority complex. How he talked like money, position and status were the only things that mattered, but he would look longingly at groups of close friends who truly cared about each other or couples who were in love, all when no one else was watching. How his perfect Malfoy mask didn't quite reach his eyes, and if you looked close enough you could see what he was really feeling.

Harry quickly learned that despite everything he said and did to the countrary, Malfoy's deepest longing was to be accepted and loved for who he was, and his deepest fear was that he would never be. Harry longed to be the one to give him that acceptance, but he'd grown resigned to the fact that while he had dropped their previous animosity, Malfoy certainly hadn't.

He sighed again, and winced as he was forced to get up and excuse himself to avoid Hermione's penetrating stare.

Harry lay in bed, bored out of his mind. He didn't dare go down to the common room, because Hermione was there and would immediately pouncing on him like a lion onto its unsuspecting prey.

He pulled out the Marauder's Map and tapped it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." He watch the map spring to life, and searched for that one dot in particular.

A cursory glance over the map told him that Draco was not in the castle. He scanned the grounds and found Malfoy's dot sitting alone under a tree by the Great Lake. On a whim, he grabbed his invisibility cloak, slipped it on, and hurried out of the dorm and through the portrait hole.

He didn't slow down until he was outside. He walked over to the tree where Malfoy sat, trying to keep quiet. Malfoy was sitting there, eating another green apple. Harry stood and watched him a little while, until Malfoy's voice broke the silence.

"Potter," he drawled. "If I _must_ suffer your presence, you might as well take off the bloody cloak and sit down."

Harry's jaw dropped, and for a moment he stood there in shock. How had Malfoy known he was there? How had he known about the cloak?

Malfoy huffed. "Honestly, Potter, I've known about the cloak since the train in sixth year. It's not like you can just stand there and fool me that way." Harry winced, remembering, and instinctively reached up and rubbed his nose. He slid the cloak off and folded it over his arm.

"How'd you even know I was there?" he asked.

"A herd of rampaging hippogriffs is quieter than you at your stealthiest, Potter," came the answering sneer. Harry snorted, knowing that wasn't true, but acknowledging to himself that he'd still been breathing pretty heavy when he approached the lake.

"So what brings you out here, in an invisibility cloak, no less?"

Harry debated for a moment, then decided he had nothing to lose. "I was looking for you, actually."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Why on earth would you be looking for me? The Weasel and the Mudblood not good enough company anymore?"

Harry snorted. "Malfoy, why do you have to act like such a prat? Why can't you be pleasant like you were when I visited last summer? You were full of hopes and dreams for the future, and you were pretty damn nice to be around."

Malfoy was silent a moment. "If I didn't know better, Potter, I'd think you were trying to be my friend." Was it just Harry or was there a touch of wistfulness in his voice?

Harry leveled his gaze on the Slytherin. "Maybe I am… Draco." He waited with baited breath for the blond's reaction.

He started when he heard his given name from Harry, then sat still a moment, his features perfectly neutral. He turned and looked Harry in the eyes after a few minutes. "You really think I was nice to be around?" he asked, the light in his eyes eager while his face showed no expression.

"I do," answered Harry immediately, and held out his hand. "So, Draco… friends?"

Draco hesitated a moment longer, then allowed himself a small smile and reached out. "Friends… Harry," he agreed, taking Harry's hand. Warmth tingled along Harry's hand all the way down his arm at the contact, and he laughed delightedly. He sprawled out lazily beside Draco and smiled at the sky.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Draco smiling beside him. He pulled another green apple from his robe pocket and offered it to Harry, who took it with a smile. Draco produced another, and they both bit into their apples.

_Friends,_ thought Harry as he crunched the apple. _And maybe, just maybe, someday maybe more. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I own absolutely nothing except the plot bunnies that hop about in my head.

**Warnings:** Implied M/M sex, and use of the word "Bloody".

**A/N:** I got sick and have been away for a long time, but I'm doing better, and although I'm now in the process of moving, I fulfilled one of the prompts I was given. The prompt that came before this, "Dear Pesky Plumbers", is nearly finished, but it is currently residing on my computer, which is boxed away in storage.

* * *

Prompt: Blissfulness

* * *

Harry woke slowly from what had been a lovely dream. He tried to fight the wakefulness and recapture it, fantasies of a certain blond fulfilled. Memories flooded him as he thought of his obsession, and how it had all begun.

* * *

Harry had hated Auror training. Because he was the Chosen One, because he had defeated Voldemort at seventeen, they expected him to be bloody perfect at _everything_. They drove him harder than anyone else, tested him more harshly. He frequently ended up injured and forced to go to St. Mungo's for treatment of injuries which, while fairly minor, could not be left alone or treated at home. You'd think that the Aurors in charge of training would have learned by then, but no.

Healer Jaimeson, the healer who handled the trainee Aurors, reminded him of Severus Snape. Not in appearance; where Snape had been gaunt, Jaimeson had a slight paunch, and where Snape had had long, greasy black hair, Jaimeson hardly had any. But his attitude – and his opinion of Harry – were so reminiscent of Snape that had Harry not seen him die, he would have suspected Jaimeson to be the Potions professor under polyjuice.

Of course, Jaimeson's hatred extended beyond Harry. He hated everyone. The people who generally got the brunt of his unpleasantness were the healers-in-training under his care. And few people attracted his ire like healer trainee Draco Malfoy. One notable exception was Harry Potter. Having heard about the animosity between the two, it was with absolute glee that he made Malfoy solely responsible for Harry Potter's care whenever Harry required the services of St. Mungo's.

The combination of inflated expectations from his instructors and Malfoy in the hospital was almost enough to make Harry quit Auror training. Almost. He had no idea what else he could do with his life, and he was determined to help hunt down and stop dark wizards. So he grit his teeth and bore Malfoy, hoping desperately that the git would quit.

But Malfoy surprised him. Rather than sniping and quarreling with Harry, he remained subdued and professional throughout their interactions. He was unexpectedly good at what he did, and his hands were gentle. He wore a mask of indifference that Harry couldn't break through. Harry caught himself baiting the other man, and while Malfoy would occasionally have a flash of the old fire in his eyes that made Harry's breath catch and his heart stutter in his chest for reasons he did not want to examine, Malfoy refused to return to their old ways. Harry grudgingly admitted Malfoy had changed. The problem was, he wasn't sure he liked it.

It took a long time for him to identify the problem, and when he did it staggered him. He missed the old Malfoy. He missed their fights, the way they sparred verbally and tossed barbs back and forth. He missed his adversary. He missed the way that he used to be able to break through that cold façade and produce genuine emotion from the blond.

He finally asked Malfoy to have a drink with him after the thirtieth time he sat on a St. Mungo's bed while Malfoy treated him. Malfoy almost dropped his wand.

"What?" he asked, eyes wide. "What did you just say?" His voice was a register or two above normal.

"I want you to come have a drink with me after your shift is done, Malfoy," Harry repeated, feeling foolish. "I… have something to give you."

"Is that a come on, Potter?" asked Malfoy, eyeing him as Ron would a tarantula, his voice almost squeaking.

"No!" Harry flushed. "I still have your wand. The hawthorn. If you want it back, that is."

Malfoy's eyes widened further. "You'd… give it back?" His voice was soft and incredulous. His face smoothed into his mask of indifference, but for a moment there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, and something else – desire. He wanted that wand. He would come out with Harry. Harry released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"Alright, Potter," Malfoy's voice was even. "I'll have a drink with you."

"Thank you, Potter," he added, sounding both sincere and a little uncertain. "I have my new wand, of course, but… there's nothing like your first wand. It's special."

Harry nodded.

Things were awkward the first time they had drinks together, at least at first. He handed Malfoy back his wand, and the blond looked at it as if it was something precious. Harry felt almost as if he was intruding on something private while the blond held it, staring at it for a long moment. Then he raised it and shot off a shower of sparks. He laughed out loud in delight before he could stop himself, and his cheeks pinked when he looked up and saw Harry smiling at him.

He looked utterly unguarded and pure and lovely, and Harry realised with a surge of unexpected feeling that he wanted him. He wanted Malfoy. He realised, belatedly, that he had for a long time. The non-relationship he and Ginny had would never be resurrected as everyone expected it to be. She wasn't what he wanted, needed. He wanted a tall, pointy blond with a firey temper, and surprisingly gentle hands.

After he returned Malfoy's wand, things eased between them. Over a couple of glasses of firewhiskey they began to loosen up and talk freely with one another. They even sniped a little, some of the fire Harry missed so much returning to Malfoy throughout the evening. He struggled to maintain a semblance of normalcy following his revelation about the Slytherin.

By the end of the night, both Malfoy had become Draco and Potter had become Harry. They parted amicably, agreeing to repeat the evening sometime. After that, whenever Harry ended up in Draco's care, they would decide to meet for drinks after his shift. Harry found himself deliberately making mistakes and getting himself injured on purpose to meet with Draco more often.

"You know, Potter," the blond drawled with a smirk one day, deliberately reverting to Harry's last name. "You really don't have to get yourself hurt so much just to see me. I'd be happy to meet with you anytime."

Harry flushed; glad Draco didn't know how accurate his joking taunt actually was. "They drive me extra hard and make my training extra difficult because I defeated Voldemort," he explained. "They seem to think that something accomplished through luck and a lot of help from my friends makes me some kind of super-wizard." He rolled his eyes and Draco threw his head back and laughed out loud. Harry watched him with an ache in his chest that was tangibly painful. The sheer want, want, _want_ that flooded him was almost unbearable.

His mouth went dry and he tore his gaze away from the Slytherin before he said something he couldn't take back. Something that would ruin things between them. He tried to be content with their friendship. Deep inside, he knew it would never be enough for him.

That evening, while he sat in their usual pub, waiting for Draco, he began drinking alone. By the time Draco arrived, an hour and thirty minutes late, looking haggard and slightly disheveled and utterly shaggable, the brunet was already well into his cups. Draco was still in his healer robes.

"Sorry I'm late, Harry," Draco said, sounding a little out of breath and running a hand through his hair – a gesture he'd picked up from Harry. "Things got really busy and I just couldn't get away any sooner. I got here as soon as I could – I didn't even go home to change." He grinned at Harry, "I just missed you so much," he teased.

"I missed you, too," said Harry earnestly, drunkenly seizing Draco's hand. "I thought you weren't coming." He turned mournful eyes on the blond, who chuckled.

"Drinking without me, Potter? I'm hurt."

Harry stuck his tongue out at Draco, but he grinned, feeling buoyed by the blond's presence. He stood up and put his arms around Draco. "Don't be hurt," he whispered breathily into the Slytherin's ear. "I couldn't bear it if you were hurt."

Draco pulled back, startled. "How much have you had to drink, Harry?" he asked, a touch of concern lacing his voice.

"Enough," answered Harry, and then he molded his lips over Draco's.

Draco froze.

He froze, then he tried to pull away, but Harry was having none of it, he kissed fiercely, nipping and teasing with his tongue until Draco's lips parted involuntarily and he plunged in. He plundered Draco's mouth, running his tongue along the roof of the blond's mouth and the inside of his gums, until Draco relaxed, moaning into the kiss, and their tongues tangled in a hot, wet frenzy of passion.

Harry poured every bit of longing and frustration he'd felt for his friend into that kiss. When they finally broke for air, he smiled at the way Draco panted and stared dazedly at him, with kiss-flushed lips and spots of colour on his cheeks.

"Want you so much," Harry whispered. "Loved you for so long now."

Draco gaped at him.

"Come home with me," Harry growled, seizing the blond around the waist and apparating them both without waiting for a reply. They stumbled as they landed in Harry's apartment, and he claimed the Draco's lips once again in another bruising kiss. Draco pulled away, panting and raising his arms to hold Harry off.

"Harry, wait – stop!" Harry didn't want to, but he hesitated.

"You need to sober up," Draco said sternly. He raised his wand and pointed it at Harry, murmuring a sobriety spell.

Harry felt the spell wash over him, freezing his blood and giving him a brief migraine. It tingled unpleasantly before fading away. He stared at the floor, mortified by what he'd done.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Are you?" Draco's voice was soft. "Did you mean it – what you said?"

Harry winced. Not only had he told the blond he wanted him, he'd said he loved him. He entertained the idea of lying, then dismissed it. He was a Gryffindor.

"Yes," he raised his eyes to meet Draco's. "Yes, I meant it all."

Draco's face lit up like the sun. "Oh, thank Merlin," he whispered. "I thought it was just me."

Then Draco was kissing him, and moaning into his mouth as he responded and the two of them stumbled and Harry trembled a little as he led the way to his bedroom.

* * *

Harry's eyes widened. It hadn't been a dream. This notion was confirmed by the warm body snuggling next to him. He looked over, and there was Draco, cuddling close, looking for all the world like an angel fallen into his bed. Harry swallowed, struggling against the enormity of feeling that threatened to overwhelm him.

He snuggled back down next to the blond, sighing in contentment. This, he decided, was bliss.


	13. Chapter 13

**Title:** Long Day

**Disclaimer:** Since the Harry Potter author's name is J. and mine is Dei Starr, you can see there would be some discrepancies should I claim ownership in any way shape or form.

**Warnings:** Implications of a sexual relationship between two men owmigawd!

**A/N:** The next prompt was actually "Holiday" by ThatCrazyGinger BUT it turned into a full chapter story. I'll post the link and the first chapter here once I've got it up. This prompt was from PrincessWarrior-17.

It is ALSO an entry in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum's Slash/Femmeslash Boot Camp Challenge, for prompt number 8. I also used prompt number 4 from the OTP bootcamp challenge.

Thanks for the prompts, guys!

* * *

Prompt from reviewer: Roses

Prompt from first challenge: Rain

Prompt from second challenge: Battered

* * *

Harry stumbled through the door at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. It was late; beyond late, it was early, and he was exhausted, wet, filthy, and miserable. He felt utterly battrred by the elements and the circumstances of the last two days. It was nearly dawn.

He'd spent hours in the freezing rain on a stakeout that had resulted in a long chase and an arduous spellfight. He'd nearly been taken down and had been forced to wait for treatment at St. Mungo's before going home, due to all the dark magic he'd been hit with. He hadn't even had a chance to rest there because of all the poking and prodding and wand waving they had been doing. He'd been up for nearly 48 hours straight and all he wanted was sleep and a hot shower. A bath would be lovely but he was afraid he'd fall asleep in the tub. It was times like this that he hated bring an Auror.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the hall mirror and snorted a laugh that was too tired to come out properly. He looked a fright; his messy black hair was greasy and actually standing all on end, and his usually bright green eyes were dull and glassy, bloodshot and red-rimmed. He stumbled up the stairs to his bedroom, and wearily opened the door. He Lumos'ed the room, only to stop short in surprise.

There was a lump in his bed. A blond lump. A blond lump that sat up and mumbled blearily, "Harry? Are you just getting in now?" Sleepy grey eyes peeked out at him from under his blanket. "Draco." He'd adjusted the wards for his boyfriend a month ago, but he'd never taken advantage of it before. Why now? thought Harry desperately.

He felt .a wave of humiliation sweep through him that the other man would see him in such a state. Never mind that the blond had seen him in worse before, as his usual healer; but that was before. When they hadn't been dating.

"What... What are you doing here?"

"We had plans last night, Potter." That was bad. He only called Harry, "Potter" when he was either teasing or upset with him. He didn't sound like he was teasing now. There was a note of reproach in his voice. "Don't you remember?"

_Fuck_ Harry closed his eyes and mentally kicked himself. Their one-month anniversary. They had been going to celebrate; Harry had the evening all planned out. And it was ruined.

"Drake, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I got stuck on a stakeout and after 30 hours I'd kind of lost track of things. I haven't slept for nearly 48 hours." He gestured with his hands, pleadingly. "Let me make it up to you? After I sleep?"

Draco sat up straighter and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He took a good look at Harry. "Merlin, Potter, you look half dead!" Harry shrugged helplessly. "

Stakeout for 30 hours in the freezing rain; long chase, nasty spellfight, and a trip to St. Mungo's," he summarized. Draco's eyes narrowed. He didn't like it when other healers treated Harry; he didn't trust them not to do something wrong.

Harry privately thought he was just being possessive; but it was kind of sweet. Draco climbed out of bed and walked over to Harry.

Harry noticed he was wearing a pair of his flannel pj bottoms, and was secretly thrilled. It was the first time he'd gotten to see Draco in his clothes and he loved it. He also loved that Draco had wanted to see him so badly he'd climbed into Harry's bed rather than going home - even after Harry had ruined their plans by not showing up.

"Let's get you a bath," said Draco, wrinkling his nose. How he could be a healer and still be so sensitive to smells was beyond Harry. "You reek." Harry groaned.

"I think I might fall asleep in the tub," he admitted. "If I can manage to stand I'll grab a shower."

"You'll take a bath; I'll wash your back and keep you from falling asleep until you get to bed," Draco declared. "After being out in the freezing rain for so long, Merlin knows you need to warm up."

Harry smiled, knowing Draco would insist on having his way if Harry disagreed. "Alright."

The bath was lovely. Draco put rose petals and rose oil into the water, and the scent and silky feel of it made Harry sigh with pleasure. He tried not think what Draco's original plans had been for the rose oil and petals; it made him feel more wretched.

After he was clean, Draco insisted he lay down and get a massage. "Your muscles must be aching."

The bed was covered in rose petals, and a bouquet of his favourite blue roses sat on the bedside table, Harry noticed with a pang of guilt. Draco got out more rose oil to give him a rub down. His hands were soft and gentle; healer's hands.

"Just relax and go to sleep, Harry," he crooned. "Let me take care of you."

"But, Draco, you-" began Harry, but Draco placed a finger over his lips.

"Will be here when you wake up. You need this," he said simply.

"But it was your anniversary, too," murmured Harry, fighting to stay awake.

"And as your boyfriend, I fully expect you to make it up to me once you've had some sleep," said Draco sternly. "But for now, I want you to rest. As your healer and as your boyfriend."

Draco smiled tenderly at him, and a wave of happiness swept over Harry. He really didn't deserve this man.

"I love you, you know," he mumbled.

"I know," Draco replied smugly. "And I love you, too, you silly git. Now sleep." His voice was firm.

As Harry drifted off to sleep, he promised himself that he would make it up to Draco when he woke up. Starting with the shag of his life.

After all, he had the best boyfriend in the world, and a lot to make up for.


End file.
